


FAST ENOUGH TO GET IN TROUBLE, NOT FAST ENOUGH TO GET AWAY.

by punkchronicles



Series: the 'isak og even' chronicles [3]
Category: SKAM (TV), SKAM (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, CAPS LOCK IS COOL, Crimes & Criminals, Even has Piercings, Even's hair is Black, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Gang AU, Graffiti, I'm Actually Kind Of Proud Of This, Illegal Activities, M/M, Mutual Pining, Punk AU, Rebel AU, Slow Burn, This is Evak centric by the way, genuinely nice people doing crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-01 20:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkchronicles/pseuds/punkchronicles
Summary: Six months ago, all of Isak Valtersen's friends stopped talking to him.Today, Isak is finding out why.He finds more than he could ever imagine. Including a poser with black hair and blue eyes.(ALTERNATIVELY: Punk Rebels with a Cause AU.)





	1. THIS IS NOT THE END (IT'S THE START)

**Author's Note:**

> *title is from a song by amber run, titled 'fickle game'.
> 
> **i am so hyped about this story.

Isak is concerned. He’s got the damn right to be concerned. For months now, all of his friends have been acting distant, postponing pregames, not answering calls, leaving his texts on read. He’s damn worried, and he’s _damn_ angry.

And then he saw Magnus down at the shops the other day, with some strange tall guy. At first Isak had no idea it was Magnus, because last time he checked, Magnus did not have _dyed black hair_.

The guy he was with had a lip piercing. Or maybe he had some weird black ink on his lip, Isak was standing pretty far away when he had seen him. Still, it’s suspicious.

Twenty minutes after Isak had seen them, he texted Magnus. Just a simple ‘what’s up, wanna hang?’, and of course, Magnus had dismissed him with a mere ‘sorry can’t, work.’

Bull-fucking-shit, Isak has seen Magnus ditch work just to buy some soda. Because he was feeling _a little thirsty._ Isak isn’t a narcissist, but he’s pretty sure he’s worth more to his friends than _refreshments._

At first he was just confused. He doesn’t remember doing anything wrong. Anything that could warrant _all_ of his friends to just suddenly outcast him. It’s not like they aren’t checking and reading his messages to him. He can see them acknowledge his messages, they just never respond.

Then he got _sad._ Why? What’d he do wrong? All his fucking friends ditched him, every single one. Maybe they just got tired of his whining. Maybe he’s a bad friend. Did something serious happen and Isak never noticed? Oh, god, what if Magnus’ mom had a traumatic episode and Isak never said anything to him about it, just kept whining on about shit.

He was stuck in a bubble of blaming himself for everything for a really long time.

At that point, it was almost three months of no-solid contact.

Then came the anger. How could they just drop him like that? He thought they were friends. _MMJI4life_ , right? Apparently fucking not. He got so angry, he texted Jonas one night at four in the morning, demanding an explanation about this _fucking bullshit._

He never got a response.

The anger slowly seeped into carelessness. He stopped asking questions. He just accepted it. Or, well, sometimes, when he’s weak or drunk, he’ll send a text. Usually to Jonas, or Eva, or anyone who he can see is online.

Then they all unfriended him on Facebook. That sent a pretty clear message. _Stay away_.

So, he did. He stayed away, even though it hurt, he didn’t try to text any of them again. Not even when he was drunk. So now he’s here in life. He moved out of Eskild and Linn’s place long ago, that had nothing to do with his friends leaving, he had just decided for himself that he needed to live alone. It felt like, at the time, something he needed to do. There’s something especially scary about moving out of your parents’ house, but there’s something even more scary about living by _yourself._

It’s a one-room apartment, one actually-decent bathroom, a small kitchen, medium sized living room, and a closet. The closet can fit about two Isaks. It’s a nice space to read, actually. Sometimes Isak will bring a desk lamp in there, and a few comic books.

The plumbing sucks. The walls are thin. There’s cacti in potted plants in the window sill. There used to be flowers, too, but Isak always forgot to water them. They were almost-dying, and Isak was suddenly hit with a wave of guilt. He had _killed_ these plants. He felt so fucking bad, for no reason. They were just plants! But still.

Instead of just chucking them down the garbage chute like some _monster_ , Isak walked down to the local florist and asked them if they would take these plants. (After explaining the situation, they took them and said Isak will get a 10% discount for the next flowers he decides to get. If he remembers to water them, of course.)

There’s books on the floor, because he didn’t feel like investing in a book shelf. _Really,_ you can just put your books in stacks next to your desk. No one’s stopping him. Linn isn’t there to pick them up, or at least straighten them. Isak doesn’t have a desk, either. Didn’t feel like investing in one. It’s his place, and recently he’s been spending a lot of time there. _Because all your friends left you. Because you’re a selfish person._

He tries not to think about it. He tries to focus on relaxing, these days. School isn’t in the way, not since he quit. It was... it was difficult, back then. Things were bad, his thoughts were horrible. The things he thought about. The stress and anxiety and pressures of doing good, being the best, _proving his dad wrong_ , it all got too much. So after one particularly _panicked_ night, Isak just… quit.

He didn’t even think about it. Didn’t think about what his dad would think. Didn’t think about the future. He just knew he needed to get out of that horrible poisonous cycle of events. He’d never been more relieved. _And your friends were there for you. Why aren’t they now?_

He doesn’t think about them.

Isak is currently on his way to his apartment. The sun is out, but it’s been blocked by the clouds all day, every once in a while, it’ll burst through and shine down on Isak. He’s wearing a snapback, so he doesn’t get it in his eyes. Finally, a good use for these things. They’re practical, they block some of your vision, to protect your eyes from the sun, but-

_But they don’t block the vision of seeing Jonas walking down the street, right in front of him._

Isak stops walking, not sure what to do. Jonas is walking fast, heavy, blocky headphones on. He’s wearing a leather jacket. He looks good. Compared to him, Isak looks like a heroine addict with forty years of experience shooting up.

Jonas always walks listening to music turned all the way up. Never stops looking into the ground. He doesn’t even _see_ Isak. Even if they were still friends, Jonas probably would’ve walked right past anyways. Isak stands there for another second, evaluating the situation. Jonas is meters away from him. He could- he should, he-

He does.

Isak turns around, spinning on a heavy heel, and takes many long, fast steps to catch up with Jonas. He knows better than to sneak up on Jonas and surprise him, so he just lightly tugs at his sleeve. Jonas still seems to get surprised, but hey, at least Isak didn’t get a knuckle sandwich this time.

Jonas’ mouth is hanging open as his eyes scan over Isak’s face in silence. His eyes jump from five different places on Isak’s complexion. Isak imagines what could be going through his head right now. _Holy shit, he looks horrible._

Jonas doesn’t say anything still, just looks down at his phone to quickly shut off the music he’s listening to. Isak can hear it turn off, since it was playing very loudly out of his headphones just now. Isak looks at Jonas for a long moment, eyes soft, mouth just slightly open, relaxed expression.

_I’m not mad. I’m just confused._

Jonas straightens his back and finally mans the fuck up enough to speak. “Hey, man.”

“Don’t fucking ‘ _hey, man’_ me. You haven’t spoken to me for six months.” Jonas looks at him again, with that look, that stupid fucking _deer eyes_ look. Doesn’t look like he’s going to say anything to that, so Isak keeps talking while he’s still got the courage.

“None of you did. You all just fucking- fucking _left._ What the hell was that even about? Why? I mean, wh- how, did I do something or-,” Isak’s throat feels like it’s closing up, drying out, and it’s reminding him of last year, when he was completely freaking out and sobbing over everything- he doesn’t want to go back to that. Last year is _over._

“No. You- you didn’t.” Jonas instantly clears that part of his questioning up, but doesn’t answer the other inquiries. “You did nothing wrong.”

Isak just stares at him. _I did nothing wrong? Then why the fuck did you leave?_

Jonas swallows his spit, loudly. Isak doesn’t care. Jonas looks down at the ground for a small second. The sun decides this is the best moment to burst through from behind the clothes and shine down on them. Jonas squints his eyes, from the sun.

“How is- how is your new place?” He asks, supposedly trying to sound casual about the fact that he fell off the surface of the Earth for six months.

“Are you seriously- oh my god, are you seriously trying to _small talk_ me right now?” Isak doesn’t know what answer he’s expecting from that, but he asks it anyway, because he’d rather get angry than start to cry in front of Jonas because he misses his friends so much.

“I- I’m- _Isak_ , this isn’t easy, what do you want me to say?” Jonas sort of moves his arm in a frustrated way, but doesn’t have the energy or want to actually swing it, just kind of lifting it in a large shrug.

“What do I want? I want- I,” Isak isn’t sounding as angry as he wants to. He’s seeping dangerously closer to ‘sad’ territory. He doesn’t notice it, but he’s pouting. “I just want an explanation, is what I want.”

“That’s what you want?” Isak isn’t sure why Jonas asks this.

He nods.

“Okay. Follow?” Jonas says, and right afterwards, he books it. He doesn’t run, but he passes to the other side of the street fast. Sort of like he’s used to getting away fast. Isak follows, because Jonas had said _okay,_ which means he might actually get a fucking _explanation._

They walk in silence for what Isak assumes is an eternity, but is probably just a normal five minutes. Then they’re at a sort of park looking place. It’s not a full on park, just a random plot of grass, with well held trees and benches below the thick branches and leaves.

Jonas walks up to a bench and brushes off the wood before sitting down. He looks at Isak expectantly. Isak sits down without brushing off the seat first. He just wants an explanation.

“So,” Jonas starts. His voice seems tired. Isak looks at his face again, notices slightly darker tones under his eyes. He’s been staying up late, just like Isak. “What’s your first question?”

“My… my first question?”

“Yeah. You asked a lot of questions, which one do you want answered first?” Jonas isn’t looking at him. His head his turned outward from the bench, looking out into the air, maybe at the trees. The leaves are moving gently. It’s not windy, but it’s enough to make Isak’s hair an annoying nuisance he has to deal with, pushing a curl away from his forehead and back under his snapback.

“...Why did everyone suddenly cut off contact with me?”

Jonas looks downward. Still not looking at Isak. “To protect you. To keep you _safe_.”

Isak doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused. He wasn’t even this confused when he was discovering his _sexuality._

 _“What-_ what kind of _James Bond_ life are you running now? Keep me safe? From- from what?” Isak shakes his head, he’s starting to call bullshit on this.

“Thing is,” Jonas finally turns his head to face Isak. “You’d never believe me if I told you.”

Isak clenches his jaw tightly shut for a second. Thinking. “You’re right. I probably- I wouldn’t.”

He’s not lying. Isak’s always been a ‘ _I’ll believe it when I see it_ ’, kind of guy. It’s why he doesn’t believe in God, it’s why he doesn’t believe in spirituality and shit like that.

Jonas gets a text. He murmurs a quick _hold on,_ typing in his passcode fast. Isak guesses that he’s checking the text. Then he types a response, Isak can hear the clicking of the electronic keyboard. Jonas does a small nod down to his phone. Isak looks briefly away. It feels oddly like he’s invading his privacy, now that they aren’t friends.

“So, let me show you.” Jonas says, and Isak had almost forgotten what they were talking about. Oh. You wouldn’t believe me, _so let me show you._

Isak’s about to say, _yes, okay_ , but then Jonas just stands up and starts walking. Isak keeps sitting, surprised. While Jonas is walking, Isak notices there’s a large icon on the back of his leather jacket. It looks like an anarchy symbol, but instead of the big red _A,_ it’s got a big _BK_ on it. It’s also got a dark red handled switchblade underneath.

Then Jonas stops his movements and turns back to look at Isak. He doesn’t need to speak to say _‘ya coming?’._

Isak follows him.

It’s around five p.m. The sun’s still being blocked by the clouds as it slowly descends down the horizon. They walk fast. No one speaks. Isak’s afraid of breathing too loudly. But nonetheless, it feels nice to actually be speaking to someone again. He hasn’t really been very social these past few months. But he’s not going to cry _in front_ of Jonas.

It’s only when they’ve been walking for five minutes that Isak realizes where they’re going. Kaffebrenneriet. It’s nearby, Jonas passes through to the other side of the street again, and walks up to the door of the café. Isak walks faster, hurrying inside behind Jonas. He supposes Jonas wants to get coffee with him before they talk about things. Sounds like a very awkward plan, but he’d rather awkwardly hang out with Jonas, than silently sit in his room listening to whatever comes up on Spotify Shuffle.

But before Isak can walk up to the desk and order a drink, Jonas is walking straight past the waitresses and cashier. Jonas walks directly into what Isak guesses is a kitchen area. He’s never been there, it’s just a room in the café with ‘ _Employees Only_ ’ printed on it. Isak stands there for a good ten seconds, before following. He’s glad one of the waitresses didn’t try to stop him.

He’s never even thought about going in here. It’s a fairly small room, with nice lighting. There’s a table, a few chairs, some shelves with stacks of paper on them and cardboard boxes lying about on the floor.

Then Isak notices there’s stairs. Going down. Into complete darkness.

Not suspicious at all.

Jonas looks at the stairs for a second, and then at Isak. “Okay. Last chance.”

What the fuck, what the _actual fuck,_ how can he just say that, after doing some shady shit like this? A staircase leading down into what Isak can only guess is the gates of hell, and then saying ‘last chance’?

“For...?” Isak wanted to just nod and go down there, but it’s like, really, really dark down there. Why does a coffee house have this kind of a thing in their employee’s break room?

“You want to know why we’ve been distant. This is your last chance to say you don’t want to know.” Jonas’ face is completely straight- untouchable. Isak ponders for a fleeting moment, if he’s ever seen Jonas look this serious before. Maybe this isn’t something Isak did wrong, maybe something’s huge happened. Something serious.

But he’s not about to fucking _say no._

“I’m in.”

Jonas reaches down, and flips a light switch. The staircase is illuminated, _motherfucker_ , there was lighting available the entire time. Way to make something look way scarier than it has to look. The stairs are old, made of possibly-rotting wood, but Jonas walks down them with ease, like he’s done it tons of times before. Isak walks carefully, watching his step, and gently supporting himself by putting a hand on the wall- decaying yellow bricks, no paint.

The stairs lead down into a room. It’s huge. There’s so many things in this room, it takes Isak a small moment to even try to process what he’s looking at.

There’s lighting- like, professional photo session lighting, the kind models stand in front of, but there’s loads of them, in each corner of the room. The room is maybe a bit smaller than your average gym hall. The ceiling isn’t high, but not uncomfortably low. The lighting is blinding, shining right into his eyes. Dust is moving around the room, and the light makes it all visible, you can see each little dust particle settle.

Isak wonders how high the electrical bill must be for Kaffebrenneriet, keeping what must be forty professional lighting stands going like this in their basement. Jonas isn’t saying anything, probably just waiting for Isak to finish examining the room.

Isak stops examining and starts _looking._

There’s tables, in the center of the room. They’re all matte black or shiny wood grey, and cheap looking. There’s PC stationary computers set up on almost every table. There’s leather desk chairs- beaten up, the leather is peeling in all different places. Well worn. There’s wires around the floor, probably to keep the lights and computers wired up and running. The computer monitors are bright, so they provide some lighting too. Isak looks up in the ceiling- there’s no lights monitored. That’s why they’ve got these lights?

On the tables with the computers are many things. Papers, mostly. Isak can’t tell what they say, the tables are kind of far away from the stairs and entrance. But the papers look like they’re completely filled with words- or, numbers?

There’s also food on the tables, nothing healthy, crumpled up energy drink cans and cigarettes too. To be honest, this entire room kind of looks like a huge LAN party. Except the white lights, of course.  If Isak was thirteen again, he’d be loving this.

But he’s not thirteen, and he notices a giant symbol on the wall- in dripping graffiti. It’s the logo that Isak saw on Jonas’ jacket. _BK._ And a switchblade. He wonders what the hell those letters mean.

Then Isak notices something. And he wants to almost just _punch_ himself, because how was _this_ not the first thing he noticed when he stepped down into this room?

All of his fucking friends are here.

Or, well, almost. A lot of them are here. The first one he spots is Eva. She looks almost the same, although he hasn’t seen her wear that much dark eye makeup in a long time, but she looks almost the same. She’s standing by a computer, looking at something on the monitor. She isn’t even looking at Isak. Then Isak sees who’s sitting by the computer, in one of the peeling leather chairs. Mahdi.

He looks the same too, wearing a baggy black hoodie. He looks good, or at least healthier than Isak does. Mahdi starts talking to Eva, Isak can’t tell about what, but Eva points at something on the screen and he begins to explain something, Isak guesses.

Feels good to see them again. He looks to the side of the room, the side where the giant graffiti painting is. Someone walks up to it. Isak can’t tell who, because the person is wearing a big black hoodie with the hood up. Eva and Mahdi are still talking, but louder now.

Then the person with the hood speaks, and puts their hoodie down, and Isak instantly recognizes him.

“C’mon, I wanna go! Just- just pack up a shit-ton of colors and let’s _go_.” He says, and walks over to a different person Isak’s sure he’s never seen before- the stranger is packing a bunch of graffiti cans in various colors into a beaten up dusty duffel bag.

It’s Penetrator Chris.

Isak barely notices it, but Chris has got a piercing. A silver eyebrow bar. It suits him. Isak looks away. No one is looking at Isak, or at least that’s what it looks like to Isak. Actually, most of the people in the room are taking turns to quickly stare at him and instantly look away.

He’s never been more confused. Jonas still isn’t saying anything. Is he waiting for Isak to stop analyzing things? Because that’ll never fucking happen.

Vilde is sitting by one of the tables. She’s drawing something? Or maybe writing something. There’s different colored sharpies on the table by her. Then a girl walks up to her, and they start talking about whatever she’s drawing and or writing. Isak’s never seen the girl before. Looking around the room, there’s a big handful of people he’s never seen before in his life.

His friends got new friends.

He hears a voice, from one of the strangers. “Isn’t Magnus supposed to be back by now?”

“Yeah. But it _can_ take a while to convince people.” Another voice.

Isak looks over to the direction those voices are coming from. It’s two girls. One has spiked dark red hair and two lip rings. She’s wearing the same leather jacket as Jonas’, just in a different fit and size. So is the other girl, blonde and pierced and tattooed. He looks around. Most of the strangers are pierced, tattooed or dyed in some way.

He’s just about to speak up to Jonas when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs behind them, and he look behind him to see who’s coming down.

Sana. Isak’s eyes feel like they might explode. She looks the same, but the reason he’s surprised is that she’s staring straight at him. Everyone here has been ignoring Isak’s gaze, except her. She steps down and smiles at him. He’s too confused to smile back.

“Hi.” She says shortly, then gives Jonas a look, and keeps walking. Isak follows her with his eyes. She walks into the almost middle of the room. Her voice is clear, strong, and loud as he announces her message.

“Updates! Okay, so, Chris is on her way with another Potential. And Magnus is halfway through with his. Which means, Guy-Chris, you’re free to go.”

Isak looks back at Penetrator Chris and sees him do a happy little fist bump, grabbing the duffel bag- the graffiti cans inside rattle, and before Isak knows it, Chris is running up the stairs behind him, the stairs creaking as he hurries up. Then the guy he was talking to earlier calmly walks up the stairs after him. He’s wearing one of those light blue medical masks.

Suddenly, a phone rings. Vilde picks it up, and starts talking instantly, then she fumbles about her desk to find a piece of paper, then she starts loudly counting up numbers. Fast, as if there’s a time limit. 0-4-6-6-8-... and then Isak lost it, she’s talking too fast to follow.

Isak finally feels like he can speak. He feels like he hasn’t been speaking for so long, his throat is closing up and he’s never going to be able to speak again, if he doesn’t speak now.

“Jonas.”

“Yes?”

“Please, please explain.”

Jonas pats his shoulder once, and starts walking, and Isak follows, because he’s getting pretty used to Jonas just walking and expecting him to follow.  Isak discovers that just slightly out of his vision was actually an additional little part of the room. There’s lights there too, but only two in each corner. There’s two couches. One three seater, one two. Jonas sits in the three seater.  Isak does too.

Jonas takes a deep breath. Then starts speaking. Isak notices that the other people in the room start going slowly quiet, Isak’s not sure if it’s out of respect or rude curiosity.

“Six months ago, someone walked up to me and started talking to me. It- it was Julian Dahl. But, he didn’t look like he used to, he’s lost the Penetrator look, he was different, seemed different. He started talking to me about, about anarchy. About ‘fuck the government’, about free speech and about America especially. It- it spoke to me. I realized shit.”

Isak isn’t saying anything. Isak’s not even sure he’s _breathing_ , right now.

“So, I thought about it. Then I got a text from Julian, saying that if I wanted to speak to like-minded people, I could,” Jonas lifts a hand and gestures towards the people in the room with them. “I could go here.”

Isak does a little nod when Jonas looks at him, even though he hadn’t been asked a question. Just felt like he needed to respond somehow. Someone with greasy black hair and the same leather jacket walks up to them, but they don’t say anything, they just grab some papers that were laying on the other couch and book it.

“I told the guys. I told Mahdi first. Then Eva. I told them both to spread the word, see whoever would agree. Mahdi told Magnus and a few others from his neighborhood, Eva spread it to the girls and Chris. Eh- Penetrator Chris.”

Isak swallows air. He’s listening, but he’s still upset. No one- no one spread it to _him_.

“So, like, P-Chris spread it to some of the penetrators, especially William. At first he didn’t- didn’t care. Thought it was useless, wouldn’t change anything. Noora didn’t agree with it either, but for different reasons. But Eva and Vilde convinced Noora that this was something they cared about, and y’know Noora, always helping her friends.”

Right now, Isak doesn’t feel like he knows anything, or anyone.

“So, Noora spoke to William. He’s got a soft spot for her, of course, so he decides to join. Or- err- not really _join._ He’s more of like, a sponsor. For now. Vilde is working on getting us more reliable cash, but for now William and a few outside of the country are paying for all of this.”

That explains all the lights, the computers, and the electrical bill. The jackets too. Doesn’t explain anything else, though. Doesn’t explain why Isak wasn’t fucking invited, or, _spread to,_ or whatever.

“Jonas.” Isak finally speaks.

“Yes?” He almost sounds nervous now. Did Isak sound angry just now?

“Wh-,” He doesn’t even know where to fucking start. Why? Where? When? How?

“What, what do you guys even _do_?” Isak tries to make full eye contact. He needs an answer. Right now.

Jonas goes quiet, maintaining eye contact for maybe two seconds before looking into the floor. He adjusts how he’s sitting on the couch, probably just stalling for time. Isak would be too, if he knew what the hell was going on.

“We… ah. We- we do… bad things.”

Isak does a little headshake. “Like what things?”

Jonas looks him in the eyes now. The sides of his mouth are turned down.

“Illegal things. We steal. We rob, we expose, we hack, we wire. Whatever, to achieve our goals.” Jonas’ still looking him in the eyes. Isak wants to ask him what their goals are, but he’s got more important questions to be asked right about fucking now.

“Why wasn’t I involved? Why did no one ever tell me anything?” His voice isn’t angry, but it’s not calm either. Six fucking months. Six months of no friends, no real social interaction. That fucking _does_ something to your brain.

“Christ, Isak, we’re _criminals._ And you- you don’t deserve that kind of a life, you- if we got caught, and they looked back at your history and saw-,” Jonas was talking a little too loudly about this.

“Shh!” Isak’s instinctual reaction is to shush him quiet, and Jonas does stop speaking, seemingly he understands Isak’s reasoning, even if he’s a little offended at being shushed. It’s almost funny. Can’t believe Isak just _shushed_ someone. But now isn’t the time to laugh.

“But… Isak, we wanted to tell you. It’s just- what with… with what _happened_ , and last year, with your… y’know, we didn’t want you to, like. We didn’t think you needed that kind of stress in your life.” Jonas does sound legitimately apologetic, and Isak knows this isn’t just some shitty excuse. It’s genuine. Isak wants to cry. He looks down into the floor. It’s rough and cement-like. No one must’ve bothered putting real flooring into this place.

“Okay.” Is all he says. He doesn’t know what else to say.

“Do you, like. How are you feeling about,” Jonas looks over to the computers again. “About this, about, what we’re doing here?”

“I don’t care if you’re criminals. You’re my _friends._ Or,” Isak was about to correct himself with ‘or I guess you _were_.’

Jonas doesn’t even let him. “We’re your criminal friends?”

Isak smiles at that. “Yeah.”

Then no one really talks, but they look into each other’s eyes, and they’re both smiling, even if it’s just a little bit. Okay. So. Friends. Good. Amazing, actually.

“Well. Now that you- now that you finally _know,_ y’know. About this.” Jonas claps his hands together slowly and looks at Isak with a happy complexion. “The offer is on the table. If you- if you’re up for it.”

“The offer of…?” Isak knows where it’s going, but he wants to make sure. He doesn’t know what to expect anymore. C’mon, all his friends are suddenly bad ass criminals!

“The offer of joining us.”

Isak’s eyebrows move up just a bit, to show Jonas his interest in that offer. Join, and get all your friends maybe back. Leave, and know that your friends are all hanging out without you at all times.

Isak nods. “Hell yeah.”

Jonas does a celebratory ‘ _ayyy_ ’ and throws an arm up, welcoming Isak in for a bro-hug. Isak takes it, and squeezes him tight. The leather is cold against him, but it still feels like Jonas.

People start looking over now, and Jonas does a small shout that Isak barely listens to, he’s too busy looking around at all his friends again, their happy faces. Isak realizes that the thing Jonas had shouted was ‘ _Welcome our newest member, Isak!_ ’

Vilde smiles at him brightly. Eva walks directly over to him in a straight line, Isak stands up when she gets close and they hug. Sana is right behind her, and then Mahdi is too. Then he hears the voice of a certain _Magnus_ , coming down the stairs, and everyone curiously looks towards the stairway entrance. Isak doesn’t really catch why.

Magnus comes down, his hair is still dyed black, but it’s pretty much the same as before hair-style wise. Next to him is a tall, pale guy, with hipster-looking glasses. He starts looking around the room, and Magnus starts giving him a ‘tour’ of the place, starting with the graffiti on the wall. Isak doesn’t even realize it, but he’s smiling at Magnus as he talks.

Magnus sees him, briefly, and looks confused for a second. Then he looks at someone else, probably Jonas or Vilde, and then he smiles back widely at Isak, his mouth opening up. Isak hears Magnus quickly go, ‘ _hold on, dude,’_ to the guy and then suddenly Isak is being very tightly hugged by a very happy Magnus.

Isak doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. He’s got his fucking friends back and it feels amazing. Sana gives Magnus’ shirt a tug and he must remember that he’s in the middle of a room tour, because then he’s bolting back to the graffiti.

Jonas takes a loud breath and says, mostly to everyone. “Well, welcome to Isak,” Mahdi throws in a quick, “We’ve missed you, buddy,” and puts a hand on his shoulder. “But,” Jonas starts again. “Back to work.”

He receives another hug from Vilde, and a kind glance from Sana, before people go back to their stations. Isak starts to notice a pattern. The room is sectioned into different kinds of work. Or at least that’s his theory.

“So.” He starts, looking at Jonas and then back to the general room. “What is, like, everyone’s general work stuff? Like, who does what?”

Jonas nods, and points a hand backwards over to the couches they were just sitting on. “This is usually where the artistic designers sit, but we were kind of hogging there space, sorry guys!” He yells the last bit over at some people at a table, a guy with a groomed beard, the girl with the spiked dark red hair walk over to the couches and set up camp.

Jonas and Isak walk over to the computers. The sound of fast clicking and rapid keyboard typing can be heard instantly. Vilde is sitting in her space again, writing down a long sequence of numbers with seemingly no pattern.

Then Isak realizes what she’s writing, when he looks at her computer monitor.

It’s someone’s credit card digits. Cool. He feels kind of bad for… mh, _Adrian Eksett?_ Poor guy.

Jonas starts explaining everyone’s roles as they walk around the room. A few people walk up and down the stairs, new faces and old faces. Jonas explains that Mahdi is a learning hacker, Vilde isn’t a hacker but she receives information from hackers stationed in Denmark and Sweden, they’re professionals and have been doing this for way longer, they’re helping them out big time. Vilde is the head of their department’s communication. Of course, she is with that smile.

Jonas explains that they aren’t alone in this. There’s many departments, theirs is a new one starting in Oslo, since the last one here got busted by the cops, big time, and had to be completely destroyed. Thankfully, no one had to serve life time.

Isak is offered chips and coffee while they talk, and he denies, but accepts the energy drink happily. This all feels really cozy. Even though literal crime is taking place right where he’s standing. He sees Noora walking down the stairs, and smiles at her when he catches her eye. She smiles back. Isak knows how she feels about crime and violence in general, but she seems happy to see him. He misses her, Eskild and Linn so much.

Jonas keeps explaining people’s specific roles, and Isak is getting more and more amazed at this entire thing. Apparently, the art designers draw their logos and stuff, and have the leather jackets made with the logos, by some guys in Spain, who then ship them back, labeled as ‘stationary’, so the post office doesn’t check the boxes. They do the same thing with weapons. Not guns, mostly knives.

They both sit down at one of the tables that aren’t being used. The leather desk chairs are comfy as hell. Must be nice doing crime in these. He looks around the room. Jonas stopped explaining people randomly, because it got tiring, so Isak just started pointing at people and asking about them.

“What does she do?”

“She’s usually in arts, but she wants to learn coding, so that’s what she’s training now. Her name is Sarah Petersen.” Jonas’ voice is hushed, because the girl’s sitting kind of close to them, slowly clicking her mouse and carefully typing on the keyboard. Like she’s afraid it’ll explode.

Some people walk down the stairs. No one Isak knows. He takes a sip of the shitty energy drink can. The group of strangers disperse, and behind them comes another stranger. He’s tall. He’s wearing a light denim jacket, with lots of different colored cloths patches. An anarchy symbol is painted onto the jacket as well.

The stranger has black hair. Blue eyes. But Isak can tell the hair’s dyed, his roots are showing. Naturally a blonde, maybe. Or brunette. Isak notices there’s a tightly rolled joint behind his left ear. He’s wearing a small amount of eyeliner, but only on his bottom eyelash. What a _poser._

“Who’s he?” Isak doesn’t look at Jonas when he asks, and Jonas knows who he’s talking about instantly, because he answers in a monotone voice;

“Even Bech Næsheim. He’s been in this for three years.”


	2. I WASN'T MADE FOR RUNNING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adapting to a new workplace can be hard. Or easy, depending on how stupid your co-workers are.

 

The thing about committing and pledging your allegiance with a criminal gang of anarchists, is that they don’t really have a specific way of training their new recruits. They’re nice, caring, but Isak is extremely used to people telling him what to do. It’s one of the reasons why school was kind of tolerable, up until last year.

People would tell him what to do. He had a system. Go to school at this time, leave at another. But with this kind of organization, there’s no real system unless you’ve been in it for a while. This is technically Isak’s third day of ‘working’ here. The day he joined, Jonas told him not to come back tomorrow, that he should go home and sleep on it, really think about what he’s getting involved with.

No fucking way Isak wasn’t coming back. He’s loyal. Way too loyal, which Eva says is the perfect amount of loyalty for a gang member.

Even though they aren’t a professional legal company, there’s aspects of what they do that seem a lot like what you might find in a professional workplace. For example, new recruits, or as Magnus calls them, _Turned Potentials_ , are asked to just hang out for a while. See what everyone’s doing. Decide where they want to put themselves.

Are you an art tech? Hacker? Recruiter? Or a Mime, someone who switches between jobs at will?

It’s like Hogwarts for criminals. Except there’s no magical hat to do the job; you have to sort yourself.

So far Isak’s been talking with Vilde, watching what she does, asking questions if anything comes to mind. Vilde’s the least scary person here, or at least she looks like it, Isak has no idea what she could actually do, hell, maybe Vilde’s the hitman of this organization. That’s one thing Isak is too weirded out to ask about, how far do the illegal acts go?

Sure, robbing some guy of five hundred NOK is illegal, but murdering that same guy seems way more illegal. Just _how_ criminal is everyone here?

His friends have only been in this for six months. No way they’ve done that kind of thing. Yet. But everyone else here, they’re blank slates, Isak knows nothing about them, he barely knows everyone’s names. That poser guy from the day before could be a fucking _murderer_ , for all he knows.

Isak quickly decided that Vilde’s job is not his cup of tea. He got too anxious, watching her write down those people’s identity information, as well as every number on their credit cards, it was like watching a little girl filling in her diary. He even saw her writing the last five digits of someone’s credit card number in _glitter pen._ Her sharpie died.

He’s just excused himself from Vilde, saying a quick bye, and offering a smile. She returns it brightly, as if she isn’t literally stealing someone’s entire life right now. It disturbed Isak a bit, and he’s kind of questioning why he ever considered Vilde a weak person.

 

So now he’s here, standing by the computers, deciding where to go next. He looks over at the couches, those two artists from the day before are sitting there. The girl is sitting with what looks like an iPad Pro, drawing with one of those fancy styluses, and the guy’s sitting next to her, with markers and a big folder filled with paper.

Isak isn’t artistic. He couldn’t draw a tree in second grade, he can’t draw one now. But looking around the room- bright white lights still hitting his eyes the second he turns his head, there’s nothing that really catches his immediate interest more.

He walks over to the couches, and sits down on the two seater that currently isn’t being used. The sound of fast keyboard typing and mouse clicking can be heard from the computer stations. Someone gets a phone call and answers it immediately, Isak doesn’t care enough to listen in on the conversation, instead, he starts a new one.

“Hey.” He offers a small smile at the art kids. Or, art adults? He can’t tell how old they are. He receives a very flat, unwelcome response from both, at the same time. “Hey.”

They must not be all up for conversation. “So, you do the art around here? Is that,” Isak motions a limp hand toward the giant graffiti painted on the wall of their logo. “Is that your work?”

“Us and Chris, yeah. We drew it, he did it.” The girl answers. None of them are making eye contact with him. Are artists really not that social? Isak looks at her hair. It’s really pretty, in a kind of matte way. She’s got the ‘yeah, I haven’t washed my hair in three days but I still look better than you’ thing going on. Isak is so jealous.

“That’s cool. I didn’t know Chris did art, even.” That’s technically true, but also, when has Isak ever tried to get to know fucking Penetrator Chris?

“You also didn’t know that all of your friends were secretly in an anarchistic punk gang. But here we are, talking.” It’s the guy this time. Isak smiles. He’s smart, Isak enjoys sarcastic humor and this guy’s got the IQ for it.

“Yeah, and the only thing I know about each of you is that you’re artists. Serious, artists, at that. Do you have names, or…?” Isak hopes that now that the guy has pretty much insulted him straight to his face, they’ll open up a bit.

“Anna.”

“Fredrik.”

He smiles. “Isak.”

“We know.”

“Ah, geez, did word spread or-,”

“Isak, someone is trying to talk to you.” Anna says, completely cutting him off in her usual monotone voice. Isak thought she just didn’t like him, but he’s starting to think that’s just how she talks. Isak looks around, and sees Jonas standing there, by one of the tables, looking at him.

He quickly excuses himself from Anna and Fredrik, they say nothing in return, but Anna looks up at Isak for the first time ever, and he smiles. She doesn’t smile back, but Isak knows she wants to.

 

Jonas didn’t want anything special, just to ask how things are going with the profession hunting. Isak explains that he’s just greeted a few people and watched Vilde, and informs Jonas that Online Hunter is not the job for him.

“Ah, yeah, I tried it for a while, but it got stress-,” Jonas is cut off by the sound of someone yelling ‘God in fucking heaven!’ while walking down the stairs. It’s Penetrator Chris. Isak now realizes that he still calls Chris ‘penetrator’, even though Chris has graduated and is no longer ‘Penetrator Chris’. He’s about to think further on that, but Chris is talking again.

Isak notices now that Chris is bleeding from the nose, and from a small gash on his right cheek. A few guys walk down the stairs behind him. Isak remembers one of them; it’s the guy Magnus brought down to give a room tour. He isn’t bleeding, but he looks bruised. So do the rest.

“What happened?” Somehow, Sana is instantly there to assess the situation. Chris seems angry. One of the guys with him are holding one of those duffel bags, probably filled with graffiti cans still. The guy, a short blonde, carelessly lets the duffel drop from his grip, it lands on the ground with a muffled metallic clatter.

“We were out on a Run, nothing big, since it’s bright out, but fucking- _someone_ ,” Chris says, with a very accusing tone. The guy Magnus brought down visibly flinches. He must’ve been the someone, Isak thinks.

“Someone made eye contact with a Yakuza, and suddenly there was ten of them, and well,” Chris shrugs. “We lost. This time.”

 

He looks at Sana in a way Isak never imagined Penetrator Chris would look at Sana. No, not romantically, for god’s sake, no. He looks at her with respect. Sana looks back with the same amount, and Isak realizes his friends have grown a lot in these few months.

Sana looks down into the ground now, probably thinking, figuring out what to do next. Isak discovered, from texting Jonas yesterday, that Sana has been decided Head of this department. Leader. Boss. Isak can’t imagine anyone better for the job.

She finally speaks, and everyone listens. “You’re going on another Run tonight. Bring more than you usually do, just in case they’re still out. If they win something, and we just back off, they think we’re scared. And we,” She looks out, not just at Chris, but at multiple people in the room with them. “We are not scared. Of anything. Definitely not those mucky Yakuzas.”

Isak hears a small muffled ‘ _fuck the yakuza_!’ from the other side of the room and smiles. Feels nice to be a part of something again. Feels nice to feel something real, again. Isak moves over to one of the tables, no one’s sitting by this computer, it’s not even turned on. There’s a paper next to the keyboard, and a few colored pencils. Is this Anna or Fredrik’s computer?

He looks to Anna and Fredrik. They haven’t moved. He leans up against the side of the table, resting his legs. Doesn’t sit down, it’s not his chair, and resting his ass against the side is just as good for him. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and quickly checks all the pages of applications on the display, just to see if there’s any notifications he’s missed.

Then he hears someone clear their throat.

 

He looks up, and it’s that guy. The poser. Now that he’s standing right in front of Isak, Isak gets a better chance at examining him. His roots are definitely blonde. He has stretched ears, and black gauges. Not too stretched out, just stretched enough, in Isak’s opinion.

But here’s something he didn’t notice. Piercings. Or, err, piercing. He has a lip ring, on the right side of his mouth. It’s black. _Poser._ He probably got it black to match his hair, god what a fucking _poser._

“Hey.” Isak didn’t even realize he just said hello, it’s probably just a reflex, considering that’s how every conversation starts. The guy, err, what was his name again? Oh, yeah, it’s Poser. The guy looks at him, and Isak feels like there’s something he’s missing.

“Could I-,” The guy smiles. He probably feels awkward, since Isak is a human fucking mess right now. And why? Well. He doesn’t know, he’s too much of a mess to even consider _why_ he’s a mess. “Could I get to my table?”

“Yes!” Isak pretty much squeaks at him, and instantly moves out of the way. So this is his table, not Anna or Fredrik’s. The guy sits down, and when Isak can see him from a different angle, he remembers- his name is Even. He’s extremely proud of himself for remembering, but still needs to proof check.

“You’re Even, right?”

“Yeah.” He looks up very briefly, and leans over to press the ‘on’ button on the side of his computer monitor. It flickers awake instantly. It’s a fancy computer. Nothing Isak could afford. Fucking  William.

Isak kind of just stands there. Is this- is this guy not going to ask for _Isak_ ’s name?

Isak looks at Even’s hands. Not voluntarily, he just noticed that Even started typing something, and then reached for his mouse, and to notice something like that, Isak would have to be looking at his hands. The guy’s not even noticing that Isak’s there anymore, just staring at that monitor. And Isak’s just staring at the guy. It’s a circle of idiocy.

Until Even speaks. “You’re a recruit. Have you studied any coders yet?”

“Coders?”

“Pull up a chair, take Mikael’s, he never uses it.” He changes the topic quickly.

 

Isak kind of hopes Even realizes that Isak has no fucking idea who Mikael is, or where his chair is. He just kind of… grabs a chair, and pulls it up to sit next to Even, just close enough to see the computer monitor. And Even’s eyelashes.

“So. Coding?” Isak says, mostly because he sees that Even doesn’t actually have anything open on the monitor, which confuses Isak, since he just saw him typing and clicking a few seconds ago. Then he sees that Even’s got a Microsoft Word document up.

“Yeah. Oh, but Jonas probably called us ‘hackers’, or something like that, right?” Oh. Right, yeah. Isak figured the _hackers_ would be, don’t know, more… hacker-y? Mysterious? Wearing V for Vendetta-esque masks?

“Ah, yes. Are- is that like, aren’t you hackers though?” Isak looks back to Even instead of the monitor. He didn’t realize Even was already looking at him. He smiles, and the piercing in his lip shifts just the tiniest little bit.

“We are.” He looks to the screen again, and opens up a web browser Isak can’t remember the name of. “But that word’s been used so much, it feels silly to call yourself a hacker.”

Isak nods. Then Even nods, and then he opens up a website that Isak doesn’t bother learning the name of. And suddenly, Even’s typing. He types fucking fast. Just like a cliché hacker would. Writing lines, he hits enter and space a lot. Isak has no idea what he’s watching, but Even looks really good at it.

Time passes like that. Even’s typing, Isak’s looking. Every once in a while, someone will say something, and the other will say something to that something, and then it’s quiet again. Isak finds himself lost, listening to Even’s calming, but sporadic typing. It’s such a nice sound.

Isak remembers his grandmother’s house had a huge, blocky computer with a heavy and loud keyboard. Every key was a different kind of sticky clacking or clicking. Isak would sit at that computer, even if the monitor was turned off, the screen black, he would be sitting there clicking the keyboard to hear the different  kinds of sounds, and trying out new combinations.

He puts an elbow up on the table and supports his chin on his hand. This is comfortable. Isak’s relaxing, thinking back, and Even’s working casually, clicking about. Isak allows himself to close his eyes. Even probably doesn’t notice.

Isak starts thinking again. Not back to when he was at his gran’s house, but to a few months ago. He was alone. He was so lonely, he actually bought a guitar, and practiced learning it, out of pure boredom. Turns out, he’s actually kind of good at it. Definitely not as good as Jonas, but he’s been practicing with online lessons for two months now and it’s going well. His mind drifts off to other things quickly.

Isak was so busy thinking about how he needs to water his plants and practice guitar, he doesn’t even notice that the typing and clicking had stopped. His eyes open, and no, not in the fluttering Disney princess way. He just opens his eyes like a normal person. Even isn’t sitting in his chair anymore.

He’s about to look around- see if he can find him somewhere. He feels guilty. Almost like he’s the reason Even just suddenly left, even though he’s probably just out for a piss or something.

 

Chris walks up to him. The guy’s smiling brightly. Chris sits down in Even’s chair. “Isak! Cool you could finally join us. Y’know, I wanted to invite you back when everyone was figuring stuff out, but I was told not to! Sucked, man. Glad you’re here now.”

Chris now talks in short, and or fast sentences. Isak assumes he thinks it makes him sound cool. He still smiles back at him, widely. Isak was so fucking lonely these past months, he’s willing to commit to a friendship with Penetrator Chris. Christ.

“It’s cool to be here.” He nods. Chris looks at the screen next to them and makes an arrogant dismissive sound. “Hacking? Nah, man. That’s not- not your kind of thing. No, no, Isak, you’re a _Run_ kind of guy.”

Isak has acquired knowledge of what a Run is. He asked Sana first, since he knew Chris would try to make it sound way cooler than it actually is. He remembers Sana’s answer from earlier.

_“Basically, we need city-wide attention, we need coverage. Lots of groups do it. You go out, with a bunch of logo stickers, graffiti, and a bunch of guys, and you tag the town. Sticker here, sticker there, logo spray painted there, whatever. It’s possibly the most dangerous job, since we aren’t the only gang in town, and people don’t appreciate being painted or stickered over- it’s an aggressive move.”_

He almost chuckles when he remembers something else she’d said. God, she’s so amazing and was definitely in Isak’s top ten of friends he missed most. It’s so great to see her again.

_“Frankly, it’s reckless and stupid and it can end in a brutal fight. That’s why Chris is in charge of assembling Runs. Leader of the Reckless, revenge to the Brave.”_

That’s one of their ‘company mottos’ except they’re not a company, so it’s just kind of this cool thing they like to spray paint on places. _Leaders of the Reckless, revenge to the Brave. BK.”_

“You think I’m a Runner, then?” Isak decides to humor him. It might be fun to go Running. If Chris has already gotten in a fight today, he’s probably ready for another one. Isak notices Jonas is standing awfully close to them, pretending to be looking at something at a desk. God, he’s like a teenage-sitter. Isak is not a baby.

“Hell yeah, you should Run with us tonight!” Chris is already excited, slapping a hand on Isak’s shoulder and standing up. “Let me show you our stickers, they’re glossy, but we have matte ones too, it’s epic.”

Isak wishes to one day be as excited over _stickers_ , as Penetrator Chris. Fuck, it’s just Chris now. Nonetheless, he smiles and nods. But before he gets the chance to see this epic sticker collection, Jonas, the fucking buzzkill, is there, right behind Chris.

“You’re not going Running.” Isak isn’t sure if he’s talking to Chris or Isak, but either way, he’s being a dick. Chris protests, but Jonas finds his mistake fast, and covers up. “Isak, you’ve only been with us three days, you’re not ready for a Run.”

It’s not like Isak specifically asked to go on a Run. That was Chris’ idea, so why was he the one getting scolded? Chris breaks out with a loud ‘oh, come on!’.

“Chris, you know you only asked Isak because Sana told you to find more guys, and no one’s stupid enough to join a midnight run.” Jonas’ voice is back to normal now- not as jittery and stuttering as it was when he was explaining shit to Isak. He’s back to being the confident brick he always was. But Isak does wonder what’s so bad about Running at midnight. Sure, it’s dark but, is that really _so_ scary?

Chris mumbles something else Isak hear or care about, and walks off. Isak sees him sitting down right between Anna and Fredrik, and he can visibly see how uncomfortable both of them are. He can’t help but smile. Then he looks to Jonas.

“I wasn’t actually trying to go on a run, by the way.”

“I know, just making sure.” Jonas is always just making sure. ‘Hey, I’m just making sure you’re not dead, hey, I’m gonna leave you for six months and then I’m gonna act like I still have the right to act like I’m your mother.’ Alright, so maybe Isak is still a bit bitter. But it’s chill.

“What’s this I hear about a Run?” Even’s walked up to them, which makes sense since they’re standing by Even’s desk. But seeing him again still surprises Isak for some reason. It must be the hair, Even’s skin is so light, and the industrial lights in the room make him look like he’s shining, it’s distracting.

“Midnight Run tonight.” Jonas supplies, and walks away, over to Vilde, Isak guesses.

“Hm. So, _Isak,_ ” Even knows his name. Even though he never asked for his name. Even tilts his head, and then there’s some loose strands of dyed black hair falling down by the right side of his face. Even looks good. And Isak thinks he’s aware of it.

“Feel like a midnight jog?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! next chapter will be longer and include some... possible jogging. comment if you have an idea for who would want to go Running!


	3. BUT WAS I MADE FOR YOU?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinda short, but very sweet chapter <3

So, turns out, a Run is actually pretty boring. It’s definitely not _dull_ , and when people are painting graffiti logos and other badassary next to you, you do get that adrenaline rush from doing something kind of _illegal._ Isak’s been handed a fat stack of stickers, all printed with a glossy overcoat and of course, their logo. He’s growing accustomed to the red switchblade, and the initials: _BK._

Chris is pretty excited about Running. He’s slapping stickers everywhere, and he’s always got a sticker ready in his hand, sticky side up, ready to be slapped on any surface at high force and velocity. It’s kind of funny to watch him. Even though this isn’t as excitingly _illegal_ as he had thought, he still finds himself smiling.

A few other people joined them for tonight. He learned the name of that guy Magnus had brought in for that tour a few days ago, his name is Lars, and he used to study engineering, but dropped out. Most people here dropped out. Wonder if Even dropped out, too.

Even’s kind of been their watchdog for this Run. He’s been walking a bit faster than everyone, seeing if there’s loads of people somewhere unexpected, telling them where they can go. Even’s at least five hundred meters in front of them, and Isak feels a bit nervous about the set up Chris has going on here.

It just doesn’t seem safe to have one guy split off from the group. So, Isak lightly jogs up to Chris, who just finished slapping a sticker onto a store window, and then turns to Isak with a smile. The sides of his cheeks kind of wrinkle up. Chris has a nice smile. Not exactly a winner personality, though.

“Having fun?” He asks. Isak nods, because he _is_ having fun, he has _friends_ again, and just to show his enthusiasm, he looks down at the pack of stickers in his pocket, grabs one out, peels it off the back and slaps it onto whatever semi-flat surface is nearby. It’s a pole holding up a streetlight. Chris seems to approve of this, now with an even wider smile on his face.

“So,” Isak starts. He nods upwards towards the end of the street. “You sure- uh, are you sure it’s a good idea to have one guy up alone?”

Chris looks up towards the direction Even’s in. Then he looks back to Isak, confused. “Even’s alone over there?”

 

Isak nods.

Chris looks around some more. On the other side of the street, three of our guys are painting something, spray cans making soft _tsssh_ sounds as they paint. Chris yells a quick, “Hey!”

The guys look over. Chris speaks, directly at Lars. “I thought I told you to run up to Even five minutes ago?”

Lars looks completely shocked. “I just-, I mean, sorry dude, I’ll do it now-,”

“Nope.” Chris shakes his head. Then he points a hand toward the graffiti work. They’re halfway through the switchblade. “Finish that.”

Then he looks over at Isak, and Isak’s sure his face is a little scaredy looking. He’s not scared of Chris, at all, it’s just weird to see him so… bossy? Like, people treating Chris with actual respect is a very surprising turn of events to Isak, still.

“Isak, it’s totally fine if you don’t want to, I’ll just get fucking,” Chris looks back over to the guys painting. “I’ll get fucking _Lars_ ,” Isak sees Lars flinch again. “To do it, if you don’t want to, but do you wanna go up and watch with Even? I’ll call him right now.”

Isak isn’t sure what to say, he isn’t sure if he really wants to. But then again, he’s the one who was concerned about Even’s safety, so why should someone else do it for Isak’s sake?

He nods. Chris pulls out his phone. The light of a white screen illuminates his entire face, all his features enhanced, and it’s a surprisingly bright contrast toward the black sky. Chris is wearing a simple black hoodie. Isak notices eyeliner on his bottom eyelids.. Not a lot, just a tiny little smudge. Enough to be noticed, though. Intentional. But he barely noticed, in his darkness.

It’s a bit over midnight, so the yellow tinted street lights and apartment windows are the only thing giving any light so they can see where they’re going. Of course, their phones can be used as flashlights too, if need be. The ground looks wet, but it’s not raining. Maybe it’s just a trick of the eye.

Isak hears a soft faint notification _ping!_ from Chris’ phone. “Alright.” He says quietly. Then he clears his throat and speaks up properly. “Even’s gonna stop where he is, and we’ll walk up to him and then you two can sprint off. Sound good?”

Sounds good. Isak nods.

 

 

It only takes them about five minutes to reach Even, it would’ve taken less time, but the guys were insisting on tagging all over the place. They have these pieces of cardboard with the logo and letters cut into them, so it makes it super easy to just paint it all over the place. Isak’s got to admit, they run a pretty tight operation here. Arts ‘n’ crafts, wise.

They reach Even, and he nods at Isak. Chris stops, and so do the rest of the crowd. They’re all mostly wearing black, black shirts, jeans, boots. Someone’s brought five ski masks too, just in case they wanna ‘fuck with some cops’, as they said.

Chris nods at Even, and slaps both of his hands together. “Alright, I’m thinking you two head down to Behrens’ Road, and we’ll see if everything’s clear there, yeah?”

They don’t have much of a say in the matter, not that Isak minds, he volunteered, after all. Chris and the rest of the group decide to make a stop, because Preben wants to do a huge free-hand logo paint, on a lone brick wall, for some reason.

 

Isak and Even walk in silence for a bit. They walk until Isak can’t hear the spray cans anymore. At this point, Isak’s completely given up slapping stickers everywhere. He’s sure it won’t hurt anyone if he forgets to vandalize the city.

 

The air’s cool, and it feels amazing to breathe it down, slowly and deeply into his lungs. It’s almost as if he can physically _feel_ it reaching the bottom of his lungs. Isak doesn’t know much about the nerve system, but he doubts it’s humanly possible to actually feel air in your lungs.

He spends so long focusing on his breathing- _in, out, in, out,_ that he forgets Even is even there. It’s not until Even stops walking that Isak notices, and faces him.

“What’s wrong?” is the first thing out of Even’s mouth. His eyes are huge, blue, shining, possibly because of the yellow street light they’re under, possibly because of pretty boy magic, Isak doesn’t know the answer.

“Wh- what do you mean ‘what’s wrong’?”

“You’re breathing like you’re trying to calm a panic attack. Are you okay?”

Oh. So he was breathing that loudly. That’s- well. It’s oddly comforting that Even had even noticed that, nonetheless mentioned it to Isak. Feels a bit more secure to be walking with this guy at midnight in the middle of town. Isak doesn’t remember the last time he was asked if he was okay so directly. Even is so… _openly_ caring about him.

It’s weird. He hears distant yelling, laughter, general noise. So much for a discreet run.

 

 

Isak stares back at Even for a long time before shaking his head. “Ah- it’s, I didn’t even notice I was doing that, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” His reply his instant, and It catches Isak off guard, because it sounds like an order, like he’s a nuisance. He wants to apologize, but that’s exactly what the order said not to do. Endless loops of ‘goddamn it’.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Even starts walking again, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. It’s a deep green color with gold detailing. He looks good. Why is Isak noticing _detailing on jackets?_

“I- I was, hah, it’s stupid now. I was just breathing. It’s cold out, the air feels, like, really nice, so I was just… breathing.” Isak doesn’t know why he’s acting like such a _bitch_ around this guy. Not in the mean way, in the _weak, pathetic_ way.

“That’s fine. Sometimes you just gotta breathe.”

Isak can’t not laugh at that. He laughs so fucking hard, he’s pretty sure he’s waking up the people living in the apartments they’re passing. Oh god. _Oh_ god. Oh fuck, _hahaha!_

It’s even funnier when Even looks at him completely confused, smiling but completely out in the dark, no idea why he’s smiling or why Isak’s laughing at all. It almost makes Isak double over. He’s not laughing anymore, just small bursts of giggles as he looks at Even’s confused face.

“It’s-“ Giggle. “It’s, _heheh_ , I- You, _hmrgn_ , you said that like, _super_ pretentiously. Super- _hrg_ , super wannabe poetically, like, _heheheh_ , dude.” Isak finally tries to gather himself. “Like, of _fucking_ course, you just gotta breathe! Dude, we have to breathe at all times! There’s, _heh,_ no fucking poetry in that.”

 

Even’s smiling harder now, and Isak assumes it’s because he’s embarrassed. Then Even puts the hood of his jacket up and starts walking away fast, he’s probably trying to guilt trip Isak, make him feel bad for laughing at him, but Even’s legs are _so_ long, he looks like a baby giraffe, and Isak ends up laughing even harder.

From a few meters ahead he hears a shout, “Shut _up_!” but before he stops laughing and gets serious, he hears Even’s loud, golden laughter right afterwards. Isak walks up to him, cheeks still straining from smiling and laughing.

“Excuse me for thinking-, _heh_.” Even stops walking and looks behind him quick, at the yellow apartment building wall, and then he leans up against it. A slow breeze of wind blows through the street. Even puts his hood down. He looks straight at Isak as he speaks.

 

“Excuse me for thinking there’s poetry in everything.”

Isak’s mouth is open, but he’s not speaking. His lips just stay slacked open, but after maybe five  seconds, his jaw adjusts, he’s about to speak, form words, when-

 

_Ping!_

goes Even’s phone. He tucks it out of his pocket and Isak watches the screen illuminate Even’s face. Way different from Chris’ face before. All Even’s features are round. Round, full lips. Round eyes, curled eyelashes. His jaw isn’t round though, that’s where Isak’s theory falls flat. His jawline though… Isak isn’t complaining about the view he has right now, that’s for damn sure.

 

It’s at this point Isak remembers everything. Even’s a fucking stranger- a rebel, some punk hacker, he didn’t know Even existed until four days ago. And yet, he’s here, noticing how full his lips are, and how nice his dyed black hair looks in this lighting. Shining. Life sure does happen a lot.

 

Even looks up, and then around, each side of the street, backwards, forwards. No one’s here, except them. Isak watches Even’s thumbs move swiftly across the screen, probably writing back a reply to someone. His fingers move faster than Isak’s ever seen anyone type, not even _Eva,_ the gossip typing machine.

Isak briefly wonders what Eva’s job is in the organization, he doesn’t remember if Jonas has told him, but then he gets distracted by Even showing Isak something on his phone screen, by literally holding it three inches from his face. He pulls his head back a little, and squints his eyes to focus on whatever the oh-so-bright screen is showing, and sees it clearly after a few seconds.

 

 

Google maps. Zoomed in on a destination. Isak clicks on the orange icon. Even smiles. A tab pops up.

_Horgan’s. Neon-lit, US-style bar/restaurant. Opening hours: 10:30PM – 3AM._

_1km. 13 minutes away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Horgan's is a real place, and so is Behren's Road, and yes, they're 13 minutes away from each other, google it (; 
> 
> Did you like this chapter? How do you think this might pan out later? feedback/ideas are always welcome (:


	4. BURGER BARS AND BOWIE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for late updates, wasn't feeling super inspired   
> <3 <3 <3

Walking to Horgan’s was eventful, to say the least. Along the way, Even found an abandoned half deflated football and they’ve been passing it to each other ever since, gently kicking it from person to person. They passed by an apartment building and Even pointed out that Mikael, a Runner, lived there once, and then proceeded to tell the story of how Mikael once shot milk out of his nose, and Isak tried to hide his disgust with an awkward smile.

 

As the stories died down, the football was abandoned, the apartments passed, they made it to Horgan’s. It was crowded, noisy, and Isak was immediately put off by it. But he sat down at a table with Even, mostly out of polite manners more than anything.

 

Isak made it through about half a beer before he had enough of the shitty rock playing over the speakers, the heavy lights making him sweat and the already drunk twenty-something-year-olds shouting off the top of their lungs. Isak wasn’t a prude, but this was all pretty annoying to be sitting in the middle of.

 

Even noticed, and looked at Isak firmly for two seconds straight, before grabbing his beer and downing the rest of it in one go, then grabbing Isak’s and doing the exact same thing again. Isak didn’t mind, he was more amazed to be honest. Then Even smiled, stood up, and started walking.

 

Isak followed, not sure where the hell he was going because _what the fuck_ , they hadn’t even paid for those yet _and-_

 

And then Even walked out of the bar and didn’t look back, checking something on his phone once he was out. Isak continues to be amazed. The waiter hadn’t even fucking _noticed._ Even looks over at Isak, and lifts his brows fast, just once, and starts walking again. Isak, not fully out of this trace yet, catches up fast.

 

“What-,”

 

“You were uncomfortable there, right?”

 

Surprisingly, that doesn’t catch Isak off guard. He isn’t ashamed when he nods and hums an ‘mhm.’ But he’s surprised when Even slings an arm around his shoulder and pulls him into a fast side-hug. Then Isak remembers that Even had just topped off one and a half pints, and he suddenly isn’t as surprised anymore.

 

“I know a place on Grünneløkka. Real quiet, eighties themed, _Bowie_ , you’ll like it.”

 

While the thought of Even finding an entirely new place for Isak’s sake is nice, he quickly realizes that his legs are tired from walking, and he’s still got a fat wad of BK stickers in his front pocket burning a hole, and from distant memory, Grünneløkka is pretty far away from Horgan’s.

 

“Isn’t that like an _hour_ away?”

 He doesn’t realize how whiny he sounds until he speaks. Some wind blows through the street. He hears voices from the bar behind them, female shrilling excited screams and he’s very happy he got out of there in time, sounds like some bachelorettes just joined the party.

 

Isak doesn’t feel like checking what time it is, but it’s still dark out, so it can’t be more than three in the morning. Isak’s half a fucking night owl at this point. No friends means no impulse control, means no one to tell you to go to fucking bed, ever. He doesn’t want to think about those lonely nights. Luckily, Even’s speaking again.

 

“It’s only like twenty minutes away, at tops thirty, unless you’re a snail.” Isak can hear him cheesing, stupid shit eating grin strewn across his face. Isak wants to wipe the floor with it.

 

“I’m not a _snail,_ just _tired._ ”

 

Even stops walking and starts looking around. Isak doesn’t get what he’s looking for. All around them are just buildings, the occasional bike rack, or trash can with recycling messages printed on wet paper taped to them. “Alright. How about- _hm_ ,”

 

Even walks over to one of the bike racks.

  
“It’s only ten minutes if we bike there.”

 

Isak’s surprised Even’s this stupid, because he seemed really smart down in the basement, or maybe he just gets drunk _really_ fast, and if that’s the case, then it’s kind of cute. “Brilliant plan, Sherlock. Except those aren’t our bikes.”

 

Even scoffs. Seeming extremely offended, then he turns around and hunches over the bike. Isak’s about to laugh again, but then Even’s speaking, and he’s speechless.

 

“This bike is locked with a U-lock, so all you gotta do is,” Even reaches down to the metal rod holding the bike seat up, and then unscrews a screw holding it together with the rest of the frame. “Take off the quick release and,” Even pulls off the entire bike seat in one smooth motion, it makes a tiny metallic shrill, but it comes off with ease.

 

Once the seat is off, Even can easily remove the U-lock. Then he puts the seat back in it’s original position and readjusts the quick release- and it’s completely free to use.

 

“Voilà. À vélo!”

 

And that’s how Isak ended up sitting behind on a stolen bike on the streets of Oslo at three in the morning.

 

Once the _joyous_ ride was over, Isak and Even had loads of fun completely covering the poor bike in BK stickers, from wheel to seat, to bell to feet. They almost ran out of stickers, but not really. Goddamn endless ass sticker supply. Isak ignores the text messages he’s getting from someone, and walks into the new destination.

_Rebell._ An eighties themed, blue neon lit bar on the corner of Grünneløkka. As promised, it’s playing A-ha’s _Take On Me_ , the second they step into the joint. They easily find a corner couch booth and Isak sinks right into it. Decent lumbar support. Isak doesn’t even look at the menu before Even’s ordered them drinks.

 

There’s posters all over the place, of old celebrities, which is expected from an eighties, seventies place, of course. There’s an old school jukebox in one of the corners, and all the lights are on. Isak admires it for a second, he’s always liked the way those things looked. It’s not being used right now, A-ha is blasting digitally through the surround sound speakers, Isak bets.

 

He doesn’t have any more time to admire the jukes, because suddenly a pretty waiter with green eyes and a blonde Elvis styled wig is setting their drinks carefully down on the table, and Isak doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Elvis hit his peak in the _sixties,_ and therefore shouldn’t be at a seventies/eighties bar _._ What he sees on the table is two huge martini glasses filled with what appears to be radioactive, shining green water. Even smiles.

 

“Try it before we gotta book it outta here, each of these are like 55NOK.” He laughs again, and Isak wonders for a second just how used to being a criminal Even really is. But he shakes it off and takes a sip. It tastes like artificial watermelon, but the _good_ kind. The kind they put in those gourmet lollipops or whatever. Once you get over the watermelon taste, you get hit in the face with the taste of pure liquor. Not sure what it is, but he doesn’t mind it. Then there’s a sour aftertaste of lime, which is probably why it’s _green._

 

They enjoy their drinks and Isak almost forgets they have to book it sooner or later. Even’s halfway through his drink, the small black straw in his mouth, poking out like the stick on a lollipop. Naturally playful, huh. Isak smiles.

 

“You’re terrible at your job, you know.” He says, stirring his drink with his own straw. Even is mocked-shocked and his mouth goes slack. The piercing in his lip moves, just slightly. His black hair shines in the neon blue light.

 

“ _Whaat?_ ”

 

“You haven’t put a single sticker, anywhere in this place.”

 

“Neither have you!”

 

“Look under the table.”

 

Even’s head instantly ducks under the table, Isak sees the dark locks of hair on his head whipping downwards at top speeds and mumbles a fun ‘ _don’t hurt yourself now’,_ but he doubts Even hears him over the Bowie that’s now playing over the speakers.

 

“Goddamn. But your technique is totally off, no one’s gonna see ‘em there.” Even sips on his drink, slim straw in action. “You suck just as much as I do.”

 

“What?! No, _no,_ I am the _master_ of stickers. I could- I _could-,”_

 

Even leans in closer, taunting him. “You could what?”

 

Isak looks him right in his dumb blue eyes. He hears the slow singing of Bowie in the background, followed by light guitar and drumming. He hears soda being poured into a cup fast and sizzling, he hears Even’s mouth make a little slick noise as his smile widens.

 

“I could sticker your _face._ ”

 

He says it so seriously, they both end up laughing afterwards. Then Even downs the rest of the green drink- fuck that straw, and then Isak grabs his own and downs it too, they both keep eye contact as they do so, smiling.

 

Then Even reaches over to Isak’s thigh, Isak freezes. But all Even does is pull out a sticker from Isak’s front pocket and gently reach up and put it on his own cheek. He smiles at Isak and the sticker almost falls off. Isak reaches over and smooths it down on his skin, just to fuck with him.

 

“There.” He supplies. Isak’s about to laugh and say something stupid, but then Even side-eyes and notices a certain Elvis-wig clad waiter, _fuck_ , and they both look back at each other, eyes filled with excitement, and fear, from each. _Get out, get out, get out._ _Move, move, move._

 

They fucking _book it._ Isak just manages to avoid some other waiter, wearing a red, long wig, at the door, and when he gets out the entrance he sees Even waiting for him a few meters away, breathing heavy. But these waiters aren’t giving up, they’re taking off their wigs and following them outside!

 

Even runs, and Isak follows.

 

They run until Isak isn’t even scared of getting caught anymore. They run until he’s sure they’re completely off of Grünneløkka. They run until they can’t hear Bowie anymore. They run until they’re both laughing quietly under their breaths.

 

They run until Even stops and Isak hits the brakes right behind him. Then Even stands with his hands on his thighs and breathes heavily, still smiling. Isak’s legs finally give up and he leans up against a bike rack for support.

 

No one needs to say anything. The sky’s still dark, but getting lighter. Isak can feel his heart beating, for once. He’s sure Even can hear it too, it’s so loud, he can feel it in his ears. They’re both still smiling, breathing. Isak breaks the silence. He hears some people shouting far, far away, from the opposite side of the street than the waiters and the bar, so he doesn’t get nervous. The apartment lights are almost all out, everyone’s asleep. Oslo is asleep, it’s just Isak and Even, and their breathing.

 

“We left the bike there..” He speaks, just for the sake of speaking.

 

Even starts laughing. Laughing hard. Way harder than he should, for too long. Even starts _dying_ of laughter, standing up straight and slapping a hand on his chest while he laughs. Isak sees a strand of black hair fall onto his face. Isak really doesn’t get what’s so funny, but he smiles, because Even looks like he’s having a nice time.

 

“Wh- _heh_ , what’s so funny?”

 

“We just ran.”

 

“And?”

  
“We just went for a run while we were on a Run, Isak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: horgan's and rebell are both real places, but i've been to neither, so i don't know if they wear wigs, or how expensive their drinks are, woops. 
> 
> comments/feedback are as always appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading this! updates soon. comments are ULTRA appreciated!


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